


These Walls Have Eyes

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Gabriel, Angst, Angst Castiel, Angst Dean Winchester, Angst Gabriel, Angst Sam Winchester, Bonding, Carrying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drifting, Exhaustion, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Frustration, Guilty Castiel, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, Healing, Horror, Humor, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Castiel, Jealous Gabriel, M/M, Malnourishment, Monsters, Nightmares, OTEP, Possessive Gabriel, Pranking, Protective Castiel, Protective Gabriel, Purgatory, Romance, Sappy, Seduction, Spying, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, embracing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean dreams of Gabriel when reality becomes too convoluted with blood and despair. Castiel gives him warmth and hope and home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: I woke up and the world was on fire

**Author's Note:**

> Established Dean/Gabriel, Heavily Implied Dean/Castiel & Eventual Sam/Castiel. Rated Mature mainly for language and some violence. Spoilers for the Season 7 Finale.  
> Dreaming endlessly of a Season 8 starting out like this. I’m very happy to get back into writing Castiel, even happier to finally be uploading this after endless weeks of work on it. Cause let me just say, this took me so long to complete and it’s probably the most torture I’ve ever put myself through; writing it and nitpicking it endlessly and then after ages editing it and biting my nails over whether or not I should upload it. I’m still biting my nails, so I hope you leave me a nice review or something if you happen to enjoy.  
> Soundtrack: Inspired by Otep’s ‘Head’, a quite creepy but also quite beautiful and mesmerizing song. The title is inspired by it as well and the chapter titles are taken from it.

There’s something off about this place, something infinitely wrong that Dean feels more as each second passes by. It’s a place where souls have been stripped down to their most primal of instincts; to hunt and maim, kill and wear the skin of their victims. 

Dean fits here, he deserves to be here after all the wrong he’s caused his world. He won’t deny it. 

Years have gone by which probably aren’t even years at all but only days earth-wise. Sam is most likely right where Dean left him, hunting him down and he at least hopes he can figure out exactly where he is. There’s not much to choose from in his case anyway; Hell, Purgatory, Dead. He highly doubts his brother will choose Heaven as an option. 

And his brother couldn’t possibly pick the latter of those three, unless of course he’s given up one-hundred percent and that would mean years have already passed. Sam isn’t stupid though and Dean must keep the hope that he will figure it out, that Castiel will find some way to get through to him. 

Now, if only he can figure out where that damn angel has taken off to. 

He isn’t safe, not by a long shot and he knows this as he walks on, avoiding the whimpers and howls and moans nearby, the screams of children that aren’t really children at all but things that have no name, at least that he knows of, creatures possessing burgundy red eyes and rows of sharp white teeth and claws sharp enough to pierce through bone with just a mere touch. These things have been tracking him, following him and because of that he sticks to the shadows, even if some do hide in the shadows. 

Dean keeps off the barely discernible road and away from the open as much as possible, because this gives them a clear idea of how vulnerable he truly is. That the angel they noticed before is no longer with him, protecting him, reassuring the human that as long as he keeps walking he will elude them. 

So Dean keeps walking, and he runs and hides and crawls into abandoned buildings and small openings in the ground when he needs a moment’s rest. He’s alone now, alone enough to make him squirm and keep eyes on alert in the back of his head and continue to will some type of weapon to appear in his hand. 

Hey, it’s worth a shot.

The rain’s pouring down now. The human’s clothes are filthy and torn. He takes shelter amongst trees so close together he barely has room to stretch out. The rain seems to drive them away, and even though Dean could really do without the cold of the rain right now, considering Purgatory’s always dismally cold no matter what, he at least appreciates being able to get off his feet. 

Putting his mind and heart at a brief rest. 

...  
...

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget me?”

Dean Winchester looks up at the only reason he gets up in the mornings, hell, the only reason he’ll even wake up at all. Most of what Gabriel says these days is far from serious. Even though he was never really an archangel in the first place, being a trickster has left its mark on him in more ways than could be easily counted, both clearly and hidden. The traits were permanently engraved in his mind and behavior, which is how Dean knew he would never change. 

Good, he didn’t want him to anyway. 

This made him way different than Castiel, more in touch with humans and infinitely more attuned to his own ego. He lived for delivering ‘just desserts’ as he deemed them, eating candy, thinking of intricate yet entirely laughable ways to prank Sam, ways that would make him look like a genius when really he just had more time on his hands then either of the two Winchester brothers could ever dream of having. 

As the months went by of living with him, sharing their personal lives with him, not to mention the expectation Gabriel placed on the two of them to go run out and get him candy even though he was more than capable of conjuring it up, Gabriel started to take a huge place in their lives, not to mention their hearts. Sam could deny it all he wanted but it was obvious. 

If Gabriel left, they'd want him back just as soon as his foot took a step out the door.

Despite his annoying traits, Dean couldn’t resist him and he never really wanted to anyway. He would lie awake some nights, listening to Gabriel yelling at the TV whenever they would play reruns of Dr. Sexy, and wonder why Gabriel bothered to stay at all, what he thought about hours later when he crawled into bed right next to Dean and discreetly moved his arm, not to mention his entire form, a little too close. 

The archangel had a legendary poker face, every time Dean tried to read him, right at the moment where he would do things either brother could never expect, he just pretended nothing was going on. Period. It unnerved the human to no end but it also made him wonder even more if Gabriel was changing right before their very eyes. 

And then, after a little while, it happened. Gabriel’s arm confidently wrapped around Dean a second after he crawled into his too cold, too empty bed. It was somewhat of a tight grip, but what struck the hunter was the strange feeling that it somehow belonged there, soaking excess warmth into his own body, reminding him that the archangel won’t ever stop taking what he wants. And Dean, suddenly, Dean’s really fucking scared of what he _does want._ The gesture startles Dean back up into the realm of nearly full consciousness, and gives him cause to lift his body and turn around to face him. He had been close to sleep when the archangel joined him finally, drifting off after an hour or two of listening to Gabriel in the other room. Now, he couldn’t have been more awake. 

The hunter wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, probably a look on Gabriel’s face that wouldn’t display denial but instead truth. Intent and not boredom. Dean didn’t want to be his plaything, though if Gabriel wanted him to be, he suspected it would have happened months back. 

Gabriel met his eyes at the same second Dean met his. His lips were full and wet and puckered out a little, eyes glowing vividly in the thick darkness with more intent, doubt and anticipation than the human had ever seen in his entire life. More than anything, Gabriel felt real and here, not just warming his bed but his soul. Dean’s heart leapt in his chest and he tensed when the archangel’s fingers brushed along his arm, he felt this great need he had to fill and he wondered if Gabriel felt it too. It wasn’t even just that, every patch of his skin was screaming at him to mold himself with the other person in the bed pushing himself dangerously closer, a closeness that meant anything happening from then on couldn’t be taken back or thrown off to the side any longer. Gabriel seemed serious beyond all imagining, and Dean instantly grew richly warm all over and swelled with lust at the way the archangel was looking at him.

When he had kissed him, when Gabriel dared to put his own beautiful lips on Dean’s slowly and with such need, it took Dean’s breath away. He had leaned into the kiss as Gabriel wrapped his arms securely around him and pulled him over to his side. It was nothing like he would ever expect coming from Gabriel, the gentleness and insecurity and playing with passion enough to make them both explode. 

It drove Dean mad, those first few minutes when the wanting was too great and their lips were locked at every possible moment. 

The next day was even better, Gabriel didn’t pretend that nothing happened. In fact, he went gunning for Dean right off the bat. Dean had fallen more in love with every kiss, every embrace, every look of longing, _of hunger,_ the archangel gave to him. He felt complete and loved and so fucking happy to see Gabriel and... 

He couldn’t think about it right now. Not when he realizes he never should have taken any of that for granted. 

Gabriel was looking at him with huge amber eyes; he seemed worried and they held something else that seemed like disappointment. Dean didn’t get it, nor could he remember the events leading up to this particular moment. Everything was a blank, everything except what he felt every single second for Gabriel and how wrong this all felt, this moment. _Don’t forget me?_

It’s a question and the archangel never is one for asking questions. _It’s like he expects something bad to happen._

“What are you talking about? I’d never forget you,” he swallows hard, Gabriel’s look unnerving him. 

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. I’ve already lost you.” Gabriel says softly and then he looks away, looks down and Dean follows his gaze. There’s red everywhere, it clouds his vision and he presses his fingers to his own stomach. It’s sticky and wet and his fingers come away bloody. 

“Gabri...” 

He looks up, but not in time to catch his eyes. In a mind blurring flash, Dean loses him and somehow it feels like a loss to be witnessed forever. His eyes flip open to the normal dismal gray of Purgatory. He’s alone, dreadfully fucking alone and there’s something hollow in him, something that’s eating him alive inside. 

_I never said goodbye._

And Dean screams because Cas isn’t around to scold and quiet him. 

Gabriel isn’t here to save him. 

...  
...

The first thing Dean Winchester does upon catching sight of this newfound monstrosity is to laugh. 

Compared to even some of the strangest things he’s hunted over the years, this thing just takes the cake, stirs something deep within him that causes him to at first deny its very existence and then to give in and laugh. It feels good when he does it too, like he hasn’t done it in ages when really he remembers Gabriel saying something downright hilarious to Sam a few days before all this happened, and he literally couldn’t stop laughing. Tears had streamed down his face as Gabriel kissed him long and hard, his strong grip pulling him into the bedroom. 

Looking back on it now, it feels like a goodbye kiss. It feels like that was the last kiss they will ever share. 

The last happy moment where all three of them could just be together, carefree and occasionally making fun of an annoyed and somewhat jealous Sam sulking in the background. 

It was a rude awakening, realizing all this, so much so that he stopped laughing as quick as he started. More rude and abrupt than that though, was when the damn thing pounced on him and worked its way towards tearing off a hunk of his flesh. Damn near succeeded too if Dean hadn’t had his legendary quick reflexes and common sense to roll out of its path and get back up on his feet, face this thing head on. It went good for the first few minutes, throwing punches that wouldn’t knock the horse-like creature complete with horns and very sharp teeth out for long. 

This thing, whatever it was, would have been downright terrifying, something not even nightmares could draw up if Dean wasn’t a hunter and if he hadn’t gone to hell. One thing he’s learned about being here though, is that the monsters and demons hell boasted of ridiculously paled in comparison to Purgatory’s offerings. 

Dean wasn’t prepared. He didn’t think he’d ever be prepared for this sort of battling come to think of it. 

The problem was that he had no weapons with him, he’d been searching for them for ages now but unfortunately hadn’t come up with more than a few sticks he could attempt to sharpen later with a rock or something. 

Hiding certainly seemed like the best option. But he couldn’t hide 24/7 and that was what would be the death of him. 

He didn’t feel it at first, one of the horns slicing through his upper arm when he slid in the mud and made his way unwillingly towards the ground. His fist connected with a soft underbelly, sending it off guard for a moment and squealing in pain, allowing the hunter to grab a stick off the ground, blunt and pretty small but better than nothing, and ram it against the creature’s sensitive spots as hard and as much as he could. He easily tired out though, especially when it appeared he was getting no results. 

Arms aching and feet blistering, he went in for what he hoped to be the final and crushing blow. That was when he felt it, a sharp pain shooting up his arm and into his head. He’d dealt with pain like this before, hell, worse than this but it was too different this time, too sudden and unforgiving and disorienting. 

The thing got up and rammed him once, twice, its horns narrowly missing the vulnerable skin of his stomach as he twisted and turned in desperation. He gritted his teeth, wondered if it was too late to run, hide; there was no shelter in sight and he knew it. This was an open field for miles. Even if he could run, it wouldn’t be for long. 

_Pain._ It centered in his arm but circled around in his head like a whirling tornado, ferocious and unrelenting. He felt like he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. His vision was hazy at best, seeing double of the thing as it came forward for him a third time. 

Dean was struggling, swimming through a maze of endless muck and agony and blood. 

Would he survive this? Would the great Dean Winchester finally meet his match here, half-naked and weaponless, in a world where hundreds more of these things roamed, searching for something to sink their teeth into, lying in wait for fresh meat? _His fresh meat._

And then he went down down down. 

...  
...

(Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Later)

His feet have been long past the point of aching, swollen and blistered. They are now onto what he presumes to be stage four; bleeding and rewarding him with a white hot agony when he puts weight on them. Not like he has a choice. They’ve been chasing him for hours. 

Red eyes glow just past the tightly packed clustering of trees he’s recently found shelter in. There’s no proper position to put his legs in, they will hurt no matter whether he pushes them out in front of him, which he barely has enough room to do, or choose another seemingly uncomfortable position. 

Dean’s panting hard but he won’t give in. He’s been putting up a fight ever since he got here but it’s pretty clear now, after an endless fucking amount of time spent walking and running and crawling and hiding and being chowed down on occasionally by creatures he could never find in his wildest nightmares, it’s pretty freaking clear that he hasn’t got much time left. 

Soon that thing, like all the others, will make its way inside his little hiding place. He will stumble and struggle to get up and if he can’t, he will crawl until he can’t feel his legs anymore and still then he will survive. Like he always does. Until he suddenly doesn’t anymore. 

Dean pushes back further against the trees as the eyes move closer. Luckily there’s only one set and it will most likely stay that way. He has to look on the bright side of every situation he falls into while he’s here, like the fact that there only seems to be one gruesome looking creature within a given distance. The others hang back, as if they’re all afraid of each other or merely territorial. It’s weird but also strangely reassuring. 

He’s just glad Sam’s not trapped with him here, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to protect him if he was. 

His feet scream for attention but Dean doesn’t want to stare at them any longer. He can do nothing for them, there’s no holy water to clean out the deep gashes and no leaves in sight other than very high above him, that he can decently use as bandages; the ground is covered in what mysteriously looks like ash, gray and revolting. Dean’s shirt is torn beyond belief, barely hanging on his rapidly thinning form. 

It seems there’s nothing to do but wait, which is really all he spends his days doing when he’s not so busy escaping and surviving. 

Dean’s getting pretty fucking sick and tired of waiting. 

He looks up, fully aware that it doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t want to do. He isn’t a hunter anymore; he’s the hunted and just because the situation sucks doesn’t mean he’s about ready to give in. He still needs to find Cas and get both of their asses out of here. 

The red eyes are suddenly on him. 

He pushes back, hurriedly scanning his dark surroundings for another exit. Teeth are already ripping into the flesh of his leg and he bites down on his bottom lip to prevent from screaming. He pushes back with his other leg but he might as well not for all the good it does. It merely collapses back to the ground, useless and throbbing as Dean pushes himself away from the current scene with arms that still, luckily, possess some of their former strength. Probably the last he’ll see in a while though. 

Dean doesn’t think his attempt is successful but it must be, for in the next second the thing is gone, leaving a massive gash in his leg and blood pooling out of it so quickly that even if Dean tried to staunch the sticky substance he’d be in no shape to do so. His arms still throb with his last dose of adrenaline, and with it he pushes himself up and hovers over his torn apart leg momentarily. 

Then he collapses back against the tree behind him, doesn’t even have the energy to curl up in a ball as he clenches his eyes shut and struggles not to cry. Tears still slip onto his cheeks though, unavoidable ones he convinces himself are made primarily out of pain and nothing more. 

“Sam,” he lets slip out of his mouth cause fuck, it hurts and he’s dying. He knows he’ll never make it out of here. Castiel vaguely told him before all this that if he died in Purgatory he wouldn’t die for real, but he can’t honestly believe all that shit. Who would count on hope when everything points against it? 

There’s no answer for the minutes of hazy consciousness. There probably never will be again. 

...  
...

Sam doesn’t know how to say it, knows the expectation is there, that Gabriel will beat it out of him even if he can’t bring himself to say a word. He has a right to know though, know where Dean no doubt is, be included in the unstoppable mission to rescue him from the bowels of Purgatory. 

He isn’t positive that the archangel won’t kill him, or vow to prank him a thousand plus times when all of this is over, when Dean is safe and back home with both of them. He’ll mention that Castiel is there, no doubt protecting Dean by whatever means necessary, but to Gabriel, ‘feather butt’, his more often than not nickname for the angel, will make no difference and only get Gabriel more pissed off.

So this was the image in Sam’s head: Gabriel storming through the room shouting ‘honey, I’m home’, no doubt to Dean, who isn’t really there but somewhere far less savory, and probably immediately sensing something is wrong with just one glance at him. Then he’ll throw him against the wall and demand what’s happening. When he spills out everything, the archangel will become a fireball of rage and start throwing things around the room, letting them crash into the walls and windows and shouting enough for the whole hotel to get pissed off, spewing curses at Castiel and Sam and the unfairness of the world. 

Maybe Sam should just leave, right now, let Gabriel figure it all out on his own. 

He didn’t do that though, and it also didn’t work out the way he had planned out. Yes, Gabriel had burst in, though without a word, and yes he had read the look on Sam’s face and slammed him against the wall. Sam said everything he knew, everything he could say and then, waiting for a blow, he opened his eyes to see Gabriel backing away. He barely caught his balance as he slipped down the wall, unable to tear his eyes away from the archangel, whose demanding face faded so quickly that he wondered if that was what his own face looked like when he put the pieces together. 

“I...”

And then Gabriel stormed out the door and left Sam behind, but not before the Winchester boy could see the tears sliding down his starkly pale cheeks. 

...  
...

_Gone. Dean’s gone._

_We tried, we tried to make more time but we just never got enough. I should’ve forced myself to make more, we were just so wrapped up in everything else. I should have taken him while I could, I should have made him feel worthy and loved. But I had to vanish every time I got a fragment of a clue, and that’s no way to be in a relationship which hasn’t even been officially established by the way, but still. Now there’s no world without him in it. There’s nothing. I never realized just how cold, just how empty I feel knowing I can’t see him when I need to the most, when I least expect it. When he was about to go off on his little adventure with Castiel I should have grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall, kissed him senselessly and made him promise me that he would come back._

_I gave him one final look and I left... I left. I’m so infuriatingly stupid._

The tears just wouldn’t stop falling as Gabriel slid to the ground and screamed his vessel’s lungs out, shattering the windows around him as if they could not handle such loss as well. 

...  
...

It’s the strangest sight when he wakes. Castiel hovers over him, an unmoving shadow with deep lines of worry etched into his forehead (they remind him of Sam), his hair disheveled and trench coat remaining amazingly intact, hardly polluted by the muck of this place at all. Dean stares silently for a few minutes, wondering if it’s real before whispering, “Cas?”

A faint smile, nothing more. 

Then, “Dean.”

Dean blinks and after that the angel is sitting down on the ground and lifting Dean up, encouraging his head to lay in his lap and for him to rest there. Dean obeys with no murmur of protest or denial. 

The sky still holds the same hue of gray that it has since he came here; the faint stench of decaying flesh and smoke invades his nostrils as it has every second of being here. Dean turns away from reality and looks up at the angel, lets the vibrant blue of his eyes fill in the emptiness within him, the parts of him that have grown hollow due to Castiel’s absence until now. He settles down into the ground, filthy as it is, and drops his throbbing head carefully onto Cas’s leg, content to avoid the dismal scenery by focusing on the much loved tan trench coat. 

He’s dying, he knows, but it’s better if Cas if here. 

...  
...

“So perfect,” Gabriel whispers lustfully in his ear. “And so cute,” he squeezes Dean’s nose, which he always compares to a button in its cuteness. “Gabriel,” he rolls his eyes and groans, hating when the archangel does that but he only laughs, kissing Dean over and over until he can’t breathe, till he can’t stop smiling even though his entire face is growing numb from it. 

“Shit, Gabriel, I missed you,” he moans, his way of begging for more even though he really has, missed him that is. 

The archangel grins, runs his hands through Dean’s short hair and plays with the soft flesh of his ears, just before his tongue finds its way to Dean’s neck, sliding up stealthily to his mouth. He opens it willingly, giving the archangel entrance so he can better swell with pleasure, having Gabriel so nice and needy inside him.

A flash of pain that’s not so far away as it should be and he’s pushing Gabriel away, who pays no mind. 

Dean looks down in an insuppressible panic. Blood is pooling up from within him, bubbling up from under his skin, intent to choke him and make him realize none of this is real. He didn’t survive, he never came back from Purgatory. This is merely one last irresistible dream before the end. 

He glances up again and there are specks of blood on Gabriel’s face, resting like macabre freckles upon his nose and cheeks and splattered almost hastily, like paint, in his hair. Gabriel doesn’t seem to notice, he only lowers himself to smother Dean’s face with more kisses. 

“Dying is just a part of life, Dean. Who needs reality? This dream is designed by me, for you. Enjoy it, Dean. Stay with me.”

Dean tries, but fails as the blood covers his entire vision and chokes him back into oblivion. 

...  
...

Cas’s hand is a steady and quite warm presence on his throbbing shoulder. His other clutches Dean’s bloody hand tightly, as if he’s the one in pain, the one who needs comfort and not clearly the other way around. Castiel doesn’t move an inch, not even when Dean shifts in his tight hold from time to time. He knows the angel feels the need to protect him, which spurs him not to complain. This contact is better than being alone. 

Dean was attacked again; when the angel left for the briefest of moments to try to find a portal or something, immediately this massive crab-like thing scuttled over to him out of nowhere and clasped his shoulder fiercely when Dean was unaware, drifting in a flurry of pain. As soon as it pierced his flesh it held on tight. Dean’s vision remained hazy from the ambush earlier, so his attempts to destroy the crab, which he doubted was possible anyway since he had no weapons and no strength left in him, was futile at best.

He was the hunted now, the meat, the prey, a victim. And he really fucking hated it. 

His scream, the one that was supposed to stay stuck in the back of his throat, must have alerted Cas because not even two seconds after he came back it was gone. Dean would never admit to shedding tears, but he can’t be certain that none slipped from his eyes and burned his cheeks as they ran down them. He clutched his shoulder, his face in agony until Cas sat back down beside him and gently removed his hand to hold it instead. Dean almost thought of pulling it out of his grip but what was the point anymore? Without Cas he’d be even worse off than he was then. Probably dead. 

Now, he’s pretty sure his shoulder is dislocated. And his legs, he doesn’t even want to think about them. He’ll be dead soon, he knows it, there’s no possible way he couldn’t know it. Dean held out for the longest he could and it just wasn't long enough. He doesn’t blame himself or Cas, but instead this wretched place, where the vilest of creatures live, even less human-like than the ones he used to hunt with Sam. 

Sam... Shit... Sam. He hasn’t thought of him for a while, blood and horror and pain are the only things holding his mind now and the only thing he can look forward to is Cas. The only one he can look to for hope at the most hopeless of times and shelter at the most terrifying is Cas, who would never dream of abandoning him to this cold and gray wasteland. 

“Thanks, Cas.” _For coming to find me._

The angel nods, barely noticeable but it satisfies Dean, who takes his cue and leans further back against him, seeking warmth from the frigid wind starting to bother him. Screw embarrassment or humiliation, Cas is the only light in this place and he’ll take it with outstretched arms. Just... Maybe not _too_ outstretched. 

“I will not leave again for a while, Dean. We will rest here and then we will continue on, to find more suitable shelter.”

“Cas,” he shivers, “don’t think I can walk.”

He doesn’t answer, which Dean doesn’t seem to mind since he’s drifting quickly into sleep anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s just now noticing how serious this all is becoming, that it’s no longer a joke he can laugh off, or Dean for that matter, but rather that everything depends on them leaving: Dean living or dying, keeping sanity or inviting the plague of insanity. 

Dean will just let Cas worry about it. Just for now...


	2. Part Two: It's all in your head

He can’t remember if he ever told Gabriel that he loves him. Or loved him. Depending on if he can get out of here or not. Anyway, it doesn’t matter cause he does, doesn't know if he’s ever even realized it before getting stranded here. 

The hunter supposes he just labeled Gabriel as a fling, a short-lived one, that Gabriel would grow bored with him, just like with everything else, and really, Dean wouldn’t hold it against him. He just never thought that he would want the archangel so fiercely, that he would miss every part of him at every second. That he would picture Gabriel’s face sometimes without even realizing it, look into his eyes and touch his skin and want more; even though he’s not really there at all, he can’t help but want more. 

So he doesn’t know if Gabriel realizes it, and he’d be putting his money on ‘no’. He’s beating himself up more and more because the chances are huge that Gabriel doesn’t know. 

He should know. He should be entitled to freak out about it and deny his reciprocation and look at the hunter with his usual stare, like he hasn’t said a damn thing. 

But yes, he should know. 

Then Dean thinks about Cas. 

The same Cas that Dean feels bad for every once in a while, stuck with him in this place, forced to sit by Dean’s side like he’s a child more often than not. The fretting that the human sees consume him every time he glances up when his vision clears a little, the hands that never leave him as they move around his mangled body; they venture nowhere else. Most of the time he’s too tired to feel the guilt but every time he awakens it lingers, as he notices the angel still remains motionless, as his eyes filter out the bleak and the gray and hone in on that angel, the only thing that seems real anymore. Castiel always stays so still, so as not to jar his injuries, and every damn time Dean opens his eyes, he’s strangely closer to being in Cas’ lap than the last time he was awake.

It’s warmer there though, not to mention he’s too exhausted to do anything but lie there like a dead weight. 

Castiel’s low sigh seems to drift throughout the entire space around them, and it echoes back strangely. His massive blue eyes don’t even seem to fade in this dismal landscape. Dean suspects this place is exerting a painful strain on the angel’s grace, suppressing his healing abilities, enough so that he can’t heal his charge or find a way out. 

Though he imagines that Cas must feel even guiltier than he does and worse than that, he has to put up with it every single minute, whereas Dean can escape through exhaustion. 

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Ya ever think we’ll split this hellhole?”

The angel’s been with him long enough to be able to interpret the words he strings together into sentences that once made no sense to him. For better or for worse, Dean has rubbed off on him so much that it’s amazing to the both of them at times. It also makes him realize how much stronger their bond is now, once physically but now emotionally, in a sense. 

“Yes. Somehow we will find a way.”

He doesn’t know who he says it more for, him or Dean. To release some of the strain on his conscience, eliminate some of his nagging guilt or give Dean the hope that he no longer possesses. The hope that he prays Dean will keep safe, locked up inside him.

...  
...

Sometimes he can hear the archangel’s voice carried on the wind. It doesn’t feel as real or permanent as Castiel’s whispered words or uneasy sighs, but he recognizes it as Gabriel, a distant yet calming sensation that grounds him temporarily. It’s akin to a sweet, soothing melody the archangel sometimes would sing him on restless nights, one that would easily clear his mind and simply make it aware that in sleep, nightmares would not claim him over Gabriel’s hold. 

“He wishes he were here with you.”

Dean startles awake a little more, “Who?”

“Gabriel.” The angel glances around at nothing in particular, snapping his head to the side when he hears a none too distant howl. Dean barely pays mind to it anymore, it’s a thing he’s gotten used to after all these days. Or all these months, years, whatever. “I can feel him too. He’s trying to reach out.”

“Why can’t he find us?” Dean whispers, snuggling deeper into Cas’ chest to escape the biting wind seeming to want to ensnare him. An even nearer growl justifies the human’s actions a little. 

“I suspect Purgatory weakens him as well.” Cas shifts a little and Dean can pretty much hear his unspoken: _Though not as much as it does me._ “He will find us, Dean, and if not then Sam must be working on something to bring us to them. It is only a matter of time.”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles, “I remember when I heard that eons ago.”

“Don’t lose hope. There is still hope.” It sounds desperate more than anything, which makes the human wonder if Cas still has hope, and if he has none than how that is really not a good sign considering he’s the only likely chance the two have. He’s an angel, he must be able to do something. Though Dean fears that if Gabriel is not able to do more than whisper words to him that he can barely hear, that make no sense, Castiel is really only good for sitting here and shielding Dean from the imminent dangers that lurk nearby. 

Not that Dean’s complaining, he’s getting pretty sick of acting as a chew toy for anyone ready and willing to confront an angel’s charge. 

“Don’t worry, Cas.” He pats his friend’s shoulder awkwardly, feeling he’s about to drift off again, “Just cause I’m bleeding out all over your coat doesn’t mean I’ve completely given up.”

Without a word the angel takes his coat off and wraps Dean in it. Despite the smell of his own blood, and the fact that it’s pretty fucking weird to be wrapped up in an angel’s trench coat, the human appreciates the warmth it provides and the familiar scent of home that not even blood can cover up. His fingers pull it closer, discreetly of course because he’s worried the angel will chuckle at how ridiculous he’s being. 

He doesn’t though, not a word or a movement marks his presence, only his vessel that seeps warmth through Dean’s torn clothes and into his ravaged body.

...  
...

Sam looks up from biting his nails as the door slides open slowly and Gabriel walks in. Not saunters, not strides confidently but rather walks, sulking and miserable, and closes the door behind him, just like a normal person. Or maybe not. 

He gets up off the couch hesitantly, a book flies off his lap and he picks it up and moves it to the coffee table. He’s completely focused on the archangel, how worn-out and completely drained he appears, his hair and clothes in disarray and eyes weighed down by stress and grief and who knows what else. There’s no anger there though, not anywhere on the sunken features of his face. 

More than anything he looks... human. Too human. 

Before all this, it’s a sight that Sam would have been happy to see. Right now, he can’t believe how much it hurts his eyes. He feels a growing knot in the pit of his stomach at realizing that Gabriel is as scared and vulnerable and grief-ridden as he is. With both of them so near to the breaking point, tottering dangerously on the edge of self-denial, their rational thoughts wanting to send them reeling into realization, it is extremely imperative to come up with a plan before shit really starts hitting the fan. 

As far as the archangel looks though, he doubts any of him is in good enough condition to come up with something of use towards getting Dean back. Sam feels the same way right about now, flipping through books that provide not even a scrap of information, desperate to find out a little more on Purgatory, at least as much as Castiel knows. If that’s even where he is. 

Gabriel slinks closer and speaks, “You’re right, Sam.” A very long pause. “He’s in Purgatory.”

Sam holds his breath, it’s too soon to talk and there’s no need for it anyway. If someone were to touch Gabriel right now, by the looks of it he’d just keel right over and not be able to get up again. Sam really doesn’t want to push it, even if more than anything he really wants to know what the hell is going on. Gabriel could know more than he does at this point, and considering Gabriel hates to share, he has to find a way anyway. To hell with what he feels like. 

“Gabriel?” He’s only been gone for a day and a half. A day and a half of Sam wearing his fingernails down to nothing, not noticing the blood caked underneath them until he forced himself to eat something, of skimming through endless books and Internet pages, all loaded with crap and speculations. 

Dean’s life depends on him. On both of them. Leaving him there isn’t an option, and the way Gabriel looks at him now, warily and knowingly, he knows he feels the same. 

“You got a plan?”

The youngest Winchester stumbles over words for a moment, nowhere near ready to tell him the truth. The truth that a day and a half has brought nothing. 

“What about a summoning spell? Want to try it?” His voice is strained, though wonderful and familiar. 

Sam can’t help but smile. 

Nowhere in his life has he seen the archangel being this cooperative before, and he thinks he knows why this moment is different. Anything involving Dean causes a change in Gabriel, that’s why one could argue they’re meant to be, even if it does piss off Sam half the time and the very image of them making out makes him want to vomit all over everything in sight. It’s kinda sweet though, how something happens to Dean and Gabriel goes all near suicidal and looks like a train wreck. 

Dean has been known to bring out the best in him, and by that Sam means the parts of him so often hidden. 

Maybe Gabriel wasn't such a terrible pick for his brother after all.

...  
...

Dean doesn’t remember falling asleep, or waking up to find Cas gone for that matter. One minute he’s there and the next he’s not, though he barely registers it for he’s back off in sleep moments later. The pain is still there but it’s nothing fresh, nothing seems to have come near him since the angel’s departure. No matter what, he can’t bring himself to worry or wonder when he’s coming back. 

Gabriel’s voice distracts him once more; it’s a little clearer now, enough so that he can hear his name, feel his love as the cold wind subsides for the briefest of moments and then starts back up again slowly, reducing its ferocity so as to brush against Dean’s cheek. ‘Hold on’ he can just about make out before Castiel shows up again and the voice, as well as any sign of Gabriel’s presence, has vanished. 

He almost wants to heave of sigh of disappointment, or actually whimper a little which is entirely more likely, if not for how happy he is to see the angel again. Even if he is in a frenzied state, forehead crinkled a little in worry and eyes betraying his panic. 

“We must leave, Dean. It is no longer safe here. I fear I will not be able to hold them at bay any longer than is absolutely necessary.” Dean’s pretty sure who the ‘them’ is. Those things, those things that want him, that are hunting him and Dean can almost build up the effort to feel terror at Castiel’s waning ability to protect him. Being separated from Cas anytime soon is a brutal agony he brushes to the side. 

Either those things are getting stronger or losing their fear more by the day; or Cas is getting weaker, drained by them and Purgatory and everything else here. 

The human attempts to move even though he knows it’ll be a miracle if he’s able to get up and walk. His feet may not hurt as much as before, but they still painfully ache in the background and if he doesn’t keep on suppressing the agony, they’ll start to hurt a lot more than they do now. When he moves his good arm it accidentally sets the other into motion, the one with the bad shoulder, and he bites down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out. Dean clenches his eyes shut, briefly, attempting to ground himself. He’s weak, he’s vulnerable, he’s Cas’ responsibility and damn him if that doesn’t make him feel pathetic and guilty and like an idiot all over again.

Cas makes a move to scoop him up and Dean’s surprised to find he’s still able to protest. Not that it matters, since he had no hope from the start of the angel ever paying it heed. 

“We must move, Dean. I am sorry.” Cas is careful with him, securing an arm under his knees and another on his back. The hunter feels stupid in this position but nowhere near stupid enough to believe he’d even be able to stand for a minute, let alone walk. This is the only option: humiliation, warmth, security or _death._ The ground is flat around them but Dean can vaguely see rocky canyons further up. He hopes they’re not headed for them, doesn’t think either of them will make it if forced to face that. Knowing Castiel though, that’s where they’re headed. 

_Sorry for what? Saving my ass?_ He wants to ask but doesn’t think it’s important enough. He’s sick of being here, tired of being the hunted and exhausted from Castiel’s pleas of keeping hope and Gabriel’s half-successful taunts of love and more hope and waiting, just waiting for someone to come and Dean is fucking done with waiting. 

Waiting for what? If Sam hasn't found a way now, chances are it’s hopeless. And Cas knows it too. 

The air is already growing thinner the longer he stays here, and it seems almost impossible to breathe at times but he does it for Cas and Gabriel and Sam and no one else. He wants to give up, he’s so fucking tired and he wants to just tell Cas to stop and leave him the hell behind, but he doesn’t. Gabriel will find him and kick his ass if he even thinks his mate is thinking these things, let alone succumbing to them. He would never let Gabriel give up, not in a million years no matter how much pain, how much agony... so no, Dean owes Gabriel at least _this._

If Cas hadn’t confirmed it he would have thought Gabriel hadn’t tried to reach him at all, but that it was rather one of those fluke things just out of the corner of his hearing reaching into him, devouring his deepest darkest secrets and desperate needs and wants. 

He wants him and Cas to make it out of here, needs Gabriel right now to tell him what’s been on his mind constantly this whole time here. Needs to tell him that all the questions and uncertainties have been obliterated and that, yes, _he loves him._

Though it doesn't seem like he’ll be getting either of those things. 

Instead, he’s slipping further down into Purgatory’s haunted depths.

...  
...

Gabriel paces the cramped motel room. They hadn’t had time to find a better one for themselves, all too focused on getting Dean back, but he’s positive that when they do get him back, mind you not _if_ but _when,_ Gabriel will make it his mission to find a more suitable room, or rather, a fucking fantastic, obscenely lavish hotel for Dean where he’ll be showered in luxury, lust and _love._

No one could deserve it more. 

Sam glances up, annoyed by the archangel’s frantic pacing that doesn’t seem like it’ll ever end, though decides to lay off him when he sees how much his hands are shaking. Shit, seems like Sam’s the only one able to keep his head now; Gabriel looks like he’s at the breaking point already, something he doesn’t quite need at this moment. 

“Hey!” No answer, no recognition that he was even heard. “Hey!” He repeats, watching sympathetically as Gabriel’s head pops up from the floor and looks at him. “We’ll get him back. You’re just making me a little tense here, Gabriel. So maybe you could sit down or something while I finish this up. I’m almost...”

“I never told him,” Gabriel interrupts. He runs a hand through his hair, which is clearly overgrown but it’s not like either of them have time to deal with it. Sam can’t even remember the last time he ate or slept. “I never...,” Gabriel collapses in a chair and Sam decides the spell can wait one more minute. If he doesn’t calm the archangel down, he’s afraid he’ll try to get into Purgatory like he almost did when they both discovered where Dean _really_ was. Sam had barely gotten him away from that situation which he fears would not have gone so well, considering he might have never made it back, and he doesn’t want to have to force him not to do something incredibly stupid again. 

“Never told him what?” He stands, sits down tensely in a chair beside him and watches him, stills one of his shaking hands with one of his own, forcing the archangel to look at him. “What, Gabriel?”

“Nothing.” It’s quick and painful to Sam’s ears, that he doesn’t want to open up, share. 

“Tell me. I’m not gonna laugh at you or anything like that.” _Well, maybe I shouldn’t exactly promise that._

“That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

Sam looks at him more closely, trying to gauge how serious this thing really is. Serious enough to really shake Gabriel up. 

“I’m afraid of how real it is. Of how I don’t think I’ve ever fully realized it before.”

“Realized what?”

Gabriel faces him finally and the hunter’s taken aback for a second by how emotional his eyes are, “That I love him. That I never want to be without him. This is killing me, Sam. I can’t face that’s he’s gone. I need him,” it’s a plea that Sam’s never heard. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a plea from Gabriel before, or even known that he was capable of one. 

And then Sam flips back to reality, squeezes the archangel’s hand because he’s known it all along. It’s been drowned out in the background, into his subconscious but he’s known it probably before Gabriel has. He knows it’s real. Wonders if Dean does too, right at this very moment, waiting for rescue and to be reunited. 

Yep, it’s official. Gabriel’s family now. 

“I know you do,” he shakes away already forming tears. “So do I. That’s why we’re getting him back, so you can tell him. Okay?” _And you better tell him. After all my brother’s been through he deserves this, something to make him realize why he belongs here, not hell, not Purgatory, not anywhere else but here._

Gabriel suddenly seems to come back to himself. He nods, looking straight into Sam’s eyes and smiling a little, it’s a little unsure and shaky but it’s still there, still filled with all the hope Dean needs to get out alive. “Okay,” he agrees, with a little enthusiasm. “What’s next?”

Sam smiles back and pulls Gabriel up and back to the very spot where Dean will show up, hopefully alongside Castiel. “Now, we finish this spell. Once and for all. We’re not leaving him to die. Neither of them.”

...  
...

The sky seems to have grown a darker shade of gray, the air even more oppressive and the harsh wind definitely not on their side, trying to knock the angel over. If anything though, Cas seems to walk faster, a heavenly soldier with only one purpose held with a bone crushing grip in his mind. To save him. To take him away from this place and back home. 

Back to Sam and Gabriel and hunting and pranks and everything Dean loves. 

This same angel wants him to keep hope and so he will. It’s hard, considering Cas has been walking for ages and he’s about to get permanent wrinkles by how long his face has stayed scrunched up, forever in worry over both him and their situation. Dean feels nothing but weak and pathetic now, allowing himself to get chewed upon by Purgatory’s permanent residents, creatures not as cunning as the Leviathans but cruel nonetheless and quickly realizing they won’t let an angel stand in the way of their next meal forever. 

More than anything he misses familiar smells: Sam’s cheap cologne and clothes that hold hostage the scent of lavender laundry detergent, not to mention his distinctive smell that Dean labels as comfort and home. Gabriel’s constant candy craze ultimately means there’s not one particular scent among the many, but sometimes he catches caramel and cotton candy and cherry licorice, enough to make his mouth water and his mind go reeling with lust and excitement. Castiel’s coat always smells good but now it just reeks mainly of his blood; every once in a while his nose captures the scent of home but it’s fading just as much as Gabriel’s and Sam’s faces are. 

Time is running out. Dean tries not to think about that or anything else as he lays still and silent in Cas’ grip.

“What do you think he’s saying?” Dean asks Castiel after a long while, when he starts to hear Gabriel’s whispers again, though even more distant than the time before. 

“I cannot hear him well either. I would imagine he’s telling you that he’s coming for you.”

“Us,” Dean reminds him, “coming for us.” Because he’d rather stay here than leave Cas behind. Not when he’s just come back to him. 

The angel stops walking for a minute, glances around before picking up his pace again. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I am no longer able to sufficiently protect you.”

“You’re doin’ jus’ fine,” he assures. “Don’ worry, we’ll...”

The voice drifting out of his hearing is perhaps what scares Castiel the most as he begins their ascent. 

“Dean?” The angel stops, shakes the now unconscious human gently. On instinct his hand flits to Dean’s now cold and clammy face, a sharp contrast to his previous feverish one that brought an unnatural worrisome red hue to his cheeks. He brushes the dirty hair clinging to his forehead back and checks for breath against the palm of his hand. 

It’s shaky but there; a fragment of hope remaining though rapidly fading. Castiel shakily exhales. 

More than anything he knows it’s growing to be too late. If he doesn’t find a portal soon, or if Sam and Gabriel don’t find a way to take Dean back with them, Dean will not live more than a few more hours. It’s terrifying. Castiel must face reality though, the reality that he simply cannot leave this human, his friend, _his brother_ here to die. It simply is not an option. 

With strained effort he continues ascending. He decides to leave Dean to his sleep, knowing full well this place is too much for a human to handle, even with an angel shielding him from most horrors. His hand lingers on the human’s forehead for another moment before venturing away to find purchase on the nearest boulder. 

He’s been sensing it for ages now; there must be some sort of portal hidden away from all wandering eyes up here. He’s looked nearly everywhere else, though it’s hard to tell in Purgatory, considering the fields and the forests all share the same traits, enough so that he often ponders if he’s not going around in circles while leaving his charge unattended and vulnerable. This is the one place he hasn’t ventured. 

This is the one place he has left. So he’ll steal Dean’s hope back and use it for their own benefit here. Anything for a chance to make it back home. 

“You will not die here, Dean.”

It’s a promise he’d give his life for to keep. Without Dean, his life doesn’t mean much.

...  
...

“We’re close,” Sam glances up at Gabriel, making sure he heard so he won’t find reason to grace them both with a panic attack. “Another hour and we’re there.” The spell is a tricky one, convoluted and non-specific to say the least. Gabriel helps him out on it as much as he can, but the rest Sam is forced to guess on, only hoping he doesn’t screw anything up, otherwise he’d never forgive himself. 

Some of the ingredients honestly don’t make any sense, objects like faerie wings and beaks of ravens, but hey, this is his brother and whatever it takes he’ll get him back. Gabriel doesn’t question them either, he leaves and comes back with them quickly, as if he just has access to anything in the universe at any given time. Sam needs all the help he can get, since it seems more and more as each second passes that Cas isn’t finding a way out of this whole mess so easily. 

He’s too busy right now to think of worst case scenario, and Gabriel’s probably thinking of it enough for the both of them. Sam’s just thrilled he got the archangel to stop pacing.   
“Hurry, Sam. I can feel him, he’s still alive. I know it.” 

Sam matches Gabriel’s hope and trudges on. Whether or not he’s stretching the truth, it doesn’t really matter. They’re this much closer to getting Dean back, and Sam’s done wasting time.

Done with missing his brother.

...  
...

They’ve stopped. He knows they’ve stopped because he’s not being jostled anymore and everything around him, albeit blurry, is motionless and eerie and screaming out for attention. The sky comes in and out of focus, so does touch, Cas’ fingers securing the coat around him and brushing his hair back, like it makes any goddamn difference. 

Attempting to move takes too much thought and effort. At this point, drifting is a much more tempting offer. 

The angel brushes lips against his forehead and Dean jerks in a pleasant surprise, his injured arm searing with pain and unpleasantly grounding him. He blinks his eyes in an attempt to clear the murky gray haze, even though everything around him is the same color, save for the cerulean eyes of the angel hovering above him. 

“What’re you...?” His voice is nothing more than a pitiful croak, dehydration will do that to you, and since Dean has lost track of time he truly doesn’t know how long he’s been without water or food. 

Castiel settles down beside him, wrapping his arms around his legs. Dean remembers how cold his hands felt moments before. _This place is weakening him._

“Gabriel is lucky.”

“Wha...?”

The pain is bringing him under again; he can barely keep his eyes open even though floating in the angel’s is entirely too tempting and way fucking beyond inappropriate. Not like it matters now, these could be his last minutes and it’s abundantly clear, obvious the angel hasn’t found a way out. He’s not gonna put expectation on him now though, not when he’s too fucked up to care what happens to him anymore. He guesses that’s what this place does, make you not care, not care enough to just fade away into despair and decay and then nothingness. Not remember anything that came before. 

“It is not important, Dean. Go back to sleep. When you awaken we will be free of this place.”

His voice is shaking, the human doesn’t seem to notice, just goes back to sleep, drifting further away from reality. Who’s he to convince him otherwise? Dean is human and fragile and in pain. He should never have had to face Purgatory in the first place. Or the Leviathans. Or his brother going to hell. It goes all the way back for him, his pain, guilt, sadness. Castiel can see it all in one look and it burdens him as well. 

_Maybe Gabriel isn’t so lucky after all. Maybe not loving is better than loving and losing, contrary to what they claim._

Then again he’s only an angel. What does he know?

...  
...

Castiel still sits near when his eyes flip halfway open again. His arm is dangerously close to brushing one of Dean’s legs, he’s too weak to hold the thought longer than a second though. Nothing seems to ground him, not the hard packed ground beneath him digging into his back and shoulders, or the coat tucked with great care around him that rustles as the wind whips by. Cas is staring off into the distance, completely oblivious, arms crossed tightly against his chest in a futile effort to will away the constant chill of this place. 

Dean doesn’t dare turn around and look in the other direction. Disappointment is always another constant. 

He groans, softly, the cold numbing him again and making him more and more unaware by the second. He doesn’t care; he feels safe and closer to home up here, feels like he might just be okay with everything. Castiel sits next to him, keeping watch over him, sacrificing warmth and a helluva lot else just to keep him alive and sane. 

Gabriel’s half-heard words and pleas are long gone, and Cas is all he has left, a reminder of deep friendship and brotherhood that goes back what seems like ages. He clings to him, he can’t help it. Dean doesn’t want to die alone and at the same time doesn’t want to take the angel with him. He’s not giving him the choice though, which the hunter, now the hunted, greatly appreciates. 

“It’s okay, Cas,” he mumbles, barely coherent and the angel’s head swivels over to him, shimmers like gentle waves in his vision, moves in and out of sight, like something not meant to be real but desperately longing to be. “Think we’re gonna be okay here, jus’ like this.”

_Just like this._


	3. Part Three: Lost my mind, Found my way

The portal Castiel sensed up among these boulders, hidden in the rocky canyon, has long since been sealed shut, perhaps even several hours after they first arrived in this wasteland. He supposes things could be worse, knows humans often look to optimism in times like this, even if this is far worse than any nightmare ever conjured up. The Leviathans could be here, preying down upon them at this very instant; they’re not though, and Castiel can’t describe how grateful he is for that. 

He doubts those things, monsters as Dean would call them, will be able to make it this high up, but the angel has never been one to underestimate or let human hopes plague his way of thinking, the way he was bred to think. He has changed though, and because Dean has changed him, because Dean is resting right next to him right now, depending on him for survival and the angel is more than happy to provide it, he will have this hope that he thought had long since been eradicated. He will stick to the notion that nothing will follow them up here, that maybe the creatures of Purgatory are still afraid of the angel enough to not dare lay a finger or a claw on his charge. 

Castiel will also not be blinded by the way things should be. He cannot admit that Dean is dying, it is too hard to face this and know you are the cause of it. The only thing he can think of now is that he will not have to face Gabriel when this is all over. Castiel will perish alongside Dean, either waiting for his grace to fully weaken or the monsters to tear his vessel apart limb from limb. 

The angel lets his fingertips brush the entrance to the portal again, the empty air quivering a little before dissipating completely. _If only I could send Dean back, I would stay here. I would be okay knowing he would be safe._

Castiel looks down at a quietly napping Dean, face chalk white and breathing unsteady, long, thick eyelashes as dark as the freckles forming, like they rarely do unless the human is sick or in pain. The angel brushes his thumb along his cheek, fidgets with his coat until it’s satisfying Dean enough to his own liking. He sighs. 

Now there’s nothing left to do but wait.

...  
...

Gabriel’s eyes are wide and wet as Sam prepares to add the final ingredient. His eyes burn as he continuously blinks back tears threatening to stream down his cheeks and sting him back to full awareness. His hands throb from being arranged into fists for so long. All his arms want to do is grab Dean into a huge embrace and hug him so tightly and never let him go. His eyes are aching to roam over his human’s figure, take in all he is, his beauty and humanity, lips dying to claim him and heal him and love him.

He’s shaking from how tense he is, the exertion of waiting, always on the brink of giving up hope for despair. 

Sam looks over at him and smiles a little, hands the archangel a faery’s wing and happily steps to the side, giving Gabriel what he would once call ‘the honors’ but the archangel’s far too choked up to have that running through his head. 

“Sam?” He asks uncertainly. It’s somewhat of a warning, that this all better work or when Gabriel can see straight again he’ll wring the younger Winchester’s throat in his bare hands. It’s also hopeful though, hopeful enough that if Sam gives him the go, pushes him once more, he will believe him and neither of them will turn back. This has to work, if this ingredient is wrong, if either of them had interpreted just one little thing incorrectly...

“It’s time,” Sam’s voice is barely more than a whisper. He’s holding back tears too, Gabriel can see it and he’s ashamed to say that he’s doing a far worse job than Dean’s only brother is. 

All his weakened body will allow him to do is nod back at Sam, holding the delicate faery wing all too carefully between his thumb and index finger. He breathes deep only to find that it hurts to do so, sends a final prayer out to Dean instead of struggling to get the message to him, which he’s long since exhausted. 

If this doesn’t work, he truthfully doesn’t know what he’d do. Dean’s method would be to drink himself to death, so what’s his? Eat enough cake and candy until his vessel explodes, wander between worlds, searching for another one that won’t make him think endlessly about the stupid, pigheaded Dean Winchester that he fell in love with and would forever _be in love with;_ what reason would there be to go on, to leave the hunter behind in his wake, knowing the two of them didn’t have enough time?

If Dean doesn't come back he’s over. 

And then, without a single word, Gabriel adds the final ingredient just moments before Latin spews forth from Sam’s mouth.

...  
...

There’s a blinding flash of white light and Gabriel closes his eyes, touches Sam’s hand to do the same. The Latin words Sam continues to recite fade into the background and the silence becomes deafening for the archangel. In his dreams, he can see Dean walking away from him, just a finger’s breadth away and he reaches only for his hand to go right through him, to feel nothing but air.

He opens his eyes; the circle still lies in the middle of the room, dreadfully empty and unchanged. Sam continues. 

Gabriel goes back to losing Dean. The moment he felt something was wrong, that Dean was officially in Purgatory, he felt this indescribable pain. It felt like the love he and the human shared had been severed, vulnerable skin cut open by a blade forged from ice and fire. It was like the archangel had been permanently shut out, forced to realize his mate had been locked away from him, to suffer in isolation for all eternity. 

He’s been alone for too long, too long before he meant Dean, and Dean gave him a reason not to be alone anymore. 

The vision made the archangel frantic like nothing else could, and it hurt far worse to fight it but he did. He’s still fighting it, wanting the bond between the two of them to be back again, knowing it’s still there somewhere and he has to protect it while Dean can’t. 

He wants Dean to know he’s coming for him, that despite all the odds of getting him back he won’t just give him up. Dean is his: his lover, his mate, his human. Take something away from an archangel and he gets pretty fucking determined, not to mention pretty fucking _pissed._

This time the human is walking towards him, and while his face may be shielded by unnatural light, Gabriel can still recognize his beloved. He takes a step forward, confirms that the image isn’t fading, that Dean isn’t about to turn around and walk away like the last time. Another step and Dean starts running, his arms outstretched and hands open, reaching for Gabriel. 

“Gabriel!” He screams, “Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!”

The archangel shakes his head furiously as he runs faster, closer to Dean by the second, tears spilling down his cheeks and dripping wetly down his neck. The two never look away; they are locked in this moment, trusting what they both so clearly have and for once just rolling with it, no arguing, no doubts, nothing there to impede them except the legs of Gabriel’s vessel, which honestly can’t run fast enough. 

Dean laughs in anticipation, smiling even as sadness fights to overtake him completely. When Gabriel’s finger brushes Dean’s cheek there is an explosion of even brighter light around them, shielding Dean from his view and he screams, he screams over and over. “No! No no, please no! Don’t take him, I can’t live without him!” He grabs the human’s hand before it slips out of his grip completely, brushes his lips against Dean’s cheek one last time before his eyes snap open again and the vision ends. 

He chokes back a sob, not wanting to give Sam the bad news, not wanting to admit it to himself. But when his gaze flits about the room he finds he doesn’t have to. The circle is no longer empty or unchanged, Sam doesn’t hold the book in his hands he did only a minute ago; it’s resting on the floor, beneath his feet, and Gabriel watches Sam break the power of the circle as he steps into it, follows the line of movement and his eyes land on the thing he wants most. 

The thing he thought he just lost. 

Even quicker than Sam he’s there, gathering a filthy and bloody Dean up in his arms as the human reaches for him, holding him close and keeping him warm, crying in happiness and sending out a prayer to his father for this. “Dean? Fuck, don’t do that to me ever again, kiddo. Thought I’d lost you.”

“Gabri...?” Dean chokes out, a pitiful whimper soon following. Quicker than Gabriel can answer him, the human in his arms loses consciousness.

...  
...

Walking into the room is harder than he’d like to admit. It takes a large reserve of strength and courage to continue to see his human in the state he currently resides in. While he did help Sam clean Dean up, wiping away the blood, dirt and grime courtesy of Purgatory, he had had to pull back many times in order to gather himself together again, swallow hard and push negative thoughts aside, which would have most likely projected onto Dean.

They kept the bath lukewarm, not wanting to startle the human whose temperature was ranging drastically from burning to freezing; and after an hour or so Sam left him to towel Dean off and clothe him in proper clothing once more: a loose fitting t-shirt and some sweatpants. Dean had stayed blissfully unaware for all of this, eyes dull and refusing to latch onto the archangel. Gabriel found he didn't mind though, it was easier to concentrate on being gentle with his human when he wasn’t concerned over Dean’s psyche. 

Castiel hovered in the doorway while he was finishing up, a quiet presence which sent Gabriel’s nerves a little too on edge for his liking. He ignored him as he carried Dean to the bedroom, still surprised (because he couldn’t afford to feel mind numbing panic), at his lack of protests and grumblings. Castiel followed him, walking quietly a good two feet behind the two of them. 

Gabriel had sighed, “You should probably help Sam with the food. He’s...”

It was then that the angel rushed up to the bed to pull the covers back, fluffing the pillows after he was through with that. He hovered near Dean nervously as Gabriel set him down, fidgeting with the blankets until the archangel gave him a warning look. 

Despite the fact that Dean had spent a week and a half in Purgatory with the angel, it still didn’t change the fact that Dean was Gabriel’s and no one else’s. Castiel, upon remembering this, backed off without a word and headed downstairs. Thinking back on it now, the archangel really doubted his intentions were anything other than to make sure Dean was okay, but Gabriel, ever the last to trust, couldn’t put this behind him just yet. 

He took a deep breath, brushed his hair back and took a look around the remainder of the second floor of the abandoned house they were staying in, then forced his feet to carry him back to Dean. 

It was a shock now more than ever at how terrible Dean appeared to him: his sallow face, cracked, shattered actually, lips, and the ‘deeply uncomfortable to look at’ bruising along his neck. Gabriel wasn’t a fool though, he could still so easily see how beautiful he also still was. It shone through proudly, masking his gaunt features and illuminating his delicate ones: his distinctly feminine eyelashes (tell Dean that and you’d get a broken nose before you even finished the sentence), freckles (they rarely appeared but Gabriel, out of boredom, counted them whenever Dean got sick), finely curved nose and pouty lips that Gabriel could _never in a million years_ resist. His eyes lingered on his incredibly soft chest moving up and down with his now steady breaths and spiky, overgrown hair (to match his own), hovering over his forehead. 

The sight only drew Gabriel closer. Into Dean’s bed and right back into his soul.

...  
...

“Gabe?”

He’s been looking outside the window for hours now, Dean’s barely discernible breathing invading his sensitive ears, coaxing him to work at releasing mounds of pent up tension. He remembers the time before Purgatory, primarily that they hadn’t had enough of it. 

“Sam didn’t want to take you to a hospital. Thought it was too risky. I begged to differ, but it seemed I was enough.” Gabriel’s voice is shaky at best, he knows this but doesn’t try to hide it. Dean doesn’t get to hide his vulnerability right now, and he _always_ plays fair with Dean, even if he doesn’t like it, even if it makes him want to choke on his own words and pretend that every thing’s alright. Healing his human had reestablished a portion of their bond though, there was no argument about that. 

Dean’s back. Dean’s safe. Dean’s hurt. Not too mention he’s probably got truckloads of barely suppressed emotional trauma and Gabriel’s all too ready to face the fallout head on. 

The way Castiel looked at him when they all gathered around Dean was heartbreaking. It said so much in one little look that Gabriel did and didn’t want to know all at the same time. That his human had been through something just as horrible as hell, with repercussions maybe even fiercer than Lucy’s kingdom ever had to offer, was something far too difficult to grasp at this point. He would try to grasp it... for Dean. 

Yet all Gabriel could think of was: ‘this is bad, this is so very very bad’. 

Still, he gritted his teeth and accepted the oncoming challenge. If anybody could help Dean it would be him, the person who loved him the most, and yes, he would argue with Sam over that matter till the sun didn’t shine anymore. He would do anything and everything to ensure Dean’s happiness and sanity. He had made that vow long ago, and he would not forsake it now. 

“So, I’m back?” His eyes float back down to Dean’s incredibly beautiful hazel ones. He walks towards the human, done with fearing, done with analyzing every inch of Dean’s features. It doesn’t matter that his voice sounds brutal; Dean can talk, Dean _is_ talking, and it’s just about the most beautiful thing in the entire world at this point. 

“Yes,” he answers, relieved yet nervous and emotionally ragged; he hates feeling out of touch with Dean. “You’re back. And here to stay.”

“Good.” The human scoots closer to the edge of the bed, buries his face in Gabriel’s chest and falls asleep. This annoys Gabriel for a split second before realizing that this is the only thing Dean needs to be doing right now, convalescing. He fights down the urge to force Dean back into normality. This is no game; it will take weeks or months or maybe even longer than that until Dean is stable again. The first thing they need to do is talk, and talk long and hard about what happened in Purgatory. 

Because Gabriel needs to know everything. And he won’t take no for an answer, not even if he has to get it out of Castiel.

...  
...

Gabriel doesn’t push for the first few days, the situation leaves him almost too tired to suppress his inner ramblings and outpouring of emotions around the human. Sure, the happiness of having him back may outweigh all, but the continued sight of him makes him miserable again, being given a taste of just what he experienced in Purgatory.

He can tell Dean is worn out, exhausted and off his guard and emotionally drained, numb from his experiences, having to do with hell knows what other than pain. So Gabriel merely hovers, near the bed, sometimes on it while he washes the sweat and dried blood off Dean’s skin, even when the latter is not really there anymore, and hurries to get Dean out of the starvation and dehydration zone so he can also get some color back to his cheeks. The human wakes up every few hours or so, disoriented until Gabriel starts talking softly (knowing it’s the only way), telling him over and over that he’s back before he can truly start to panic. Most of the time he just slips back into sleep, the shock of it all refusing to let him continue to grasp onto consciousness. Sometimes though, he looks up at the archangel and slips his hand in his own, the grip weak but miraculously _there,_ looks confused for a minute before beckoning for Gabriel to move closer. 

This startles Gabriel even more than the former, seeing Dean so needful and longing for something the archangel can’t give to him; a mind-wipe isn’t what Dean wants, they’ve discussed it before and Dean has always been vehement about it. He can only give his presence and his touch, and sometimes the archangel wonders if what he really wants is Castiel, who’s been avoiding the two of them like the bubonic plague, probably due to the archangel himself. 

He still panics sometimes before he manages to swallow it down: the initial sight of Dean, his torn up arms and feet, and eyes so dull and faded that the archangel was sure he had already lost his mind. That they were too late after all. But then Dean had said his name and everything fell into place again. His gaze hadn't fallen upon Castiel when he landed in the center of the circle, his arms didn't reach out for the angel or for Sam. He was the one on Dean's mind, he was the one he wanted to come back for. 

And when he sits down on the bed, sometimes privy to hear the human mumbling his name in his sleep, he knows it even more.

This is nothing like hell had been though. This seemed worse to all three of them. Dean was distant and deathly silent and in need of an isolation that no one wanted to give him. It would take time, that was what Sam and Castiel frequently told him but how much time? How much time before Dean really let go of his slipping grip on reality and fell away from Gabriel?

It was downright terrifying to watch, to watch Dean stare out the window when he wasn't sleeping hour after hour, not acknowledging his or anyone else's existence but Castiel himself when he started coming around after a few days. Gabriel was put on the dreaded sidelines, watching, waiting for Dean to become catatonic. 

It was maddening; enough to tear all his hair out. 

Most of all, he was pissed that he hadn't expected all this in the first place. Going through something as traumatic as Purgatory didn't spell out a person jumping back up on their feet when it was all over. Even the angel looked shaken up enough to give Dean his space and wander around in his own thoughts. 

He also held tightly to a jealousy of Castiel though, an envy of the position he had been put in, spending a week and a half with Dean. He didn't think anything had happened, or maybe it was the exact opposite, maybe _too much_ had happened. The angel had been with the human in his weakest moments, he longed to know what words had been shared between the two, what secrets were vowed to be kept. 

The archangel, however, took no action. Castiel had very likely saved Dean's life in many ways and it couldn't be overlooked. Not to mention, he was hanging around the human constantly like he was his own personal watchdog; an extra protector. What wasn’t welcome were the looks they shared every once in a while, the meaningful glances that sent shivers down Gabriel's spine. Ones that seemed to mean a million things and yet only one all at the same time. 

He was jealous. But now was no time for him to get jealous. 

Moreover, it wasn't Castiel who had saved Dean. It was him and Sam, but mostly Sam. He had Sam to thank a million times over for bringing his Dean back.

Which meant a reprieve, though very short, of pranks he had been saving up for a tense moment such as this one. Cas though, well, that was a different story entirely.

...  
...

‘Nothing happened,’ he tells himself constantly. _Nothing happened between them. I'm just overreacting, constantly focusing on what exactly Dean went through and it's not helping him heal. I have to forget, I have to make him forget. Nothing else matters._

He walks into the room; the drapes are pulled back and the sun cuts thickly through the shadows you could once drown in. Dean sits tensely on the window seat, looking like he's waiting for something the archangel doesn't know about. 

Really wants to know about, but obviously won’t push. 

His hands immediately go for the human's shoulders and he massages them gently, eyeing Dean cautiously as his gaze shifts a little away from the window. They haven't looked each other directly in the eye since Dean came back, since Dean held his gaze so fiercely, too desperately that Gabriel couldn't shake the chill and the simultaneous happiness it had given him. 

“It's been four days, Dean,” his fingers knead his soft, sensitive flesh until the human let's loose a little moan and leans further back against him. He revels in the sensation of it, wants to thank Dean and kiss him for showing such obvious _need._ The first thing is to get out of this house though, for the both of them. “We should go out and take a walk, get you some fresh air.”

Dean nods at this, despite the fact that Sam gave him strict orders to stay in bed or at least stay in the room. He loses some of his tenseness under Gabriel's confident fingers but makes no move to stand. Gabriel gets up first, takes Dean's hand and pulls him gently, though insistently towards the door. Dean follows, slowly, but makes no move to break away or protest. Gabriel stops in his tracks when he looks up and sees the angel blocking their path, shooting Dean one of his pointed looks and for a moment the archangel surges with rage. 

He waits, waits for Castiel to say something, to test his patience, to tell him what's best for Dean and put the human in the middle of everything.

Gabriel taps his foot silently, impatient; his hand closes just a tiny bit tighter on Dean's wrist, though no doubt Castiel can sense it, can understand just like he had before this whole ordeal that Dean is Gabriel's and vice versa. 

They cannot be separated. They cannot be blown away by any force out there. They can't be forced to feel in any way different than what they've always felt. 

The angel moves to the side, nods in understanding before Gabriel leads Dean out of the stuffy room and carefully down the stairs, his hand a secure presence on his human’s back. Sam eyes them for a moment from his position in the living room while on their way out, but doesn't say anything. 

Gabriel has waited for this. For a moment alone with his human, away from prying eyes and the possibility of someone eavesdropping or sneaking up on them. Now he's taking it. He guides Dean down onto the swinging hammock on the front porch, onto the red and white checkered quilt and takes a seat directly beside him, watching him out of the corner of his eye. It’s a nice day, not too hot, the sun’s still hiding behind the clouds a little, but rain isn’t on the agenda and Gabriel considers sitting out here with Dean for the majority of the day. It’s certainly comfy. 

“Nothing happened you know,” it feels like it's coming directly from his own head. He’s actually quite shocked that Dean’s talking about this so soon, even more than surprise at reading his own mind. 

“What makes you think that I think that?”

“Cause I know you. I know that you tried to reach out and distract me. I felt you. Cas did too.” Dean squints up at the sun finally peeking out. 

Gabriel smiles, he was worried his little trick hadn't worked. He was happy the angel had felt it too, since it might not have meant at that time to back off of his mate, though it sure does now. 

Dean looks down at his blistered hands, Gabriel feels the urge to take one of them in his own and he does, squeezing it and narrowing the distance between the two of them, as if to block out the world so Dean can only see the two of them. “We didn't really talk, I just mostly slept, not to mention bled like a stuck pig all over Cas' coat.” Gabriel remembers the sight; the bloody monstrosity was draped over Dean when he appeared right out of thin air, at the exact moment he and Sam prayed he would. The summoning spell had worked, it still almost seemed like a dream that they had succeeded. That Dean was here, in reality, not in some dream. 

Gabriel almost laughs at the words but doesn’t; the image of the coat is sealed into his vision, unshakable and unforgettable, such a ratty old thing that’s gone through so much, providing the little warmth and comfort that might have kept Dean alive for those last few hours. It’s easier for him to think that than facing the hard facts; Castiel probably kept Dean alive for those hours, not some stupid coat which is probably in the trash by now, if Sam’s not trying to wash the damned thing. 

It had been surreal, the sight of Dean’s blood, evidence that he could no longer deny what he went through. He couldn’t just shake it off and laugh and act like everything was just peachy. 

“So you guys didn't kiss or anything like that, huh?”

It's meant to annoy Dean and it does; he shoots him one of his ‘pissed off but yet not really enough to do something about it’ glares, before sticking his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie and bumping into Gabriel's shoulder on purpose, playfully. Gabriel bumps back. He feels like a kid but Dean’s always known for bringing that out in him, letting loose the life in him. 

“Cas wouldn't do that, he knows how much you mean to me.” _How much I mean to him, not how much he means to me. Guess I shouldn’t have worried after all._ “Look,” Dean sighs wearily, “M’ sorry I haven't been paying you much attention lately. I'm just, trying to get adjusted again. It's harder than it looks.”

Gabriel kisses him, unrelentingly, with no room for protest or regret. Dean sinks into it, wraps his arms around the archangel's neck and has him support him.

“I know,” Gabriel whispers against his forehead. “I’m on your side. Always, kiddo,” he promises.

Dean starts to remember things; Cas brushing fingers then lips across his forehead, Cas smiling down at him and saying how ridiculous he's being without speaking a single word. Cas holding him so tightly as if he'd just let go an inch and Dean would slip away into nothingness. He comes back to Gabriel, and it’s the best thing he’s felt in ages.   
Gabriel let's go, stares at him so closely, glancing inside his soul like it's nothing. The human realizes how much he's missed this: the closeness and the vulnerability he feels under Gabriel's gaze, the things they just keep between the two of them, that they would never share with anyone else. 

He chokes back a sob; Dean Winchester doesn’t cry, especially not for Gabriel’s benefit. “Missed you, you know. Couldn’t stop missing you actually. Makes me feel like a god-damned sissy.”

“Hey,” the archangel cups his hand under Dean’s chin, a strong sign (cause he wants it to be), of his affection towards the human. “I missed you too,” he swallows, “too much. Not like I had anything else to do that didn’t involve me obsessing over you. The thing is, Dean,” he struggles with the words, words his head has been raging at him to say for weeks now, words he promised he would get out when his human came back. “I care about you, a lot.” _Oh shit, do I have to say anymore?_ “I love you. I was too stupid to notice it when I should have, and then I guess I just never had the guts to say it. But I do. Very much.” _There, now was that so hard? Yes!_ “I was so scared that being in Purgatory would make you forget, about what we had. Guess the candy really has rotted away my brain and turned me into a useless idiot,” he chuckles, wishing he had shut up ages ago because now that it’s all out in the open he can’t take any of it back. 

The eldest Winchester boy stares at him for an unbelievably long minute, and it’s enough to make Gabriel want to chew his already short nails down to bloodied stumps to match Sam’s own. He’s anxious for an answer, unable to convince himself that Dean thinks about him the same way. 

“Shit, Gabe. I...” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” the archangel quickly says, careful to hide his disappointment. “I get it.”

“No,” the human shakes his head and grins, “you don’t. I love you too and damn the fact that that hellhole made me realize it but it’s true. If I could choose to bunk up with anyone it would be you and your antics. You make me fucking crazy but somehow it keeps me sane.” Dean shakes his head in disbelief at this entire situation and thinks about jumping on top of Gabriel right now, slamming him into the ground and having his way with him. This time it’ll mean something infinitely different, because this time they’ve both mustered up the guts to admit their feelings, and damn him if he doesn’t want something in return for it. 

But since they’re not in the confines of his room, Dean will hold himself back until later, or until Gabriel claims he’s strong enough to put himself through strenuous activity once again. _Yeah, like he could resist my fine ass for longer than tonight. I’d like to see that day._ “Now,” Dean continues, “enough with the chick flick moments.” He blushes a little; his hand flies up to his face just a little too late. “I’m freaking starving.”

“Hey!” Sam suddenly yanks the door open and lands eyes on the two lovebirds. “Who ate the cookies I just made?”

“How do you know someone ate them?” Dean ventures. 

“Cause there's crumbs on the counter.”

Dean looks at Gabriel and laughs, so long and so hard that Gabriel can swear he's back to normal again. Him back to his antics and Dean back to loving them. Sam takes the hint pretty fast though. 

“I'll have you know I made them for Dean, Gabriel.” Accusatory, everyone’s always accusatory towards him, doesn’t matter if he happens to be around or not. It’s not like he can help it, he is a trickster after all. Well, not really, but still, he’s been one for long enough that it’s more than just rubbed off on him. Not to mention Dean loves it, he doesn’t take the fun out of life like Sam is constantly trying to do. 

He shrugs, takes Dean again in another kiss, “Guess we'll just have to make another batch then.” He imagines his mate licking cookie dough off his fingers and his entire being surges in sudden lust. 

A perfect way to start the day.


	4. Where my secrets come to meet

Dean drifts around Purgatory for a little while, and it isn’t any less terrifying than his time spent there. For one thing, he can’t feel the way he did towards the end, which would be nonchalant and in this odd acceptance mode that Castiel must have hated seeing Dean being resorted to. His heart beats so fast he imagines it falling out of his pain-ridden chest any minute. He can still feel every single one of his injuries that Gabriel healed without him even really noticing. He walks on legs that crumble beneath him after what seems like hours of walking and crying out for Cas. He feels that something must be wrong, really really wrong, and even though in his dreams he vaguely remembers his return to Earth, the archangel’s eyes boring into his own with purpose, he still can’t stop himself from searching for the angel, from thinking that he is either back here or that he has never left at all. Much like those fucked up dreams of Gabriel making him accept his fate and claiming he’s lost him already. 

It’s always the same nightmare every time; Dean walks and Dean falls, he crawls for miles more until he sinks away into another dream of Gabriel, one pushing Dean away, telling him it’s too late, and the other reaching for him and blaming the hunter, saying that he must have intents to leave. He hates Gabriel and wants Gabriel at the exact same time near the end of his dream. Castiel doesn’t find him, maybe Castiel doesn’t want to find him, and Dean finds a darkness he doesn’t want to succumb to claim him just before he wakes, breathing hard and gasping. 

Gabriel is there the first time, Sam and Castiel are too, watching him nervously, looking at one another like they’re trying to push anyone but themselves to speak. Dean gets up, leaves the room, Gabriel follows. It’s the same every time, and these scenes feel like a dream too even though Gabriel’s touch on him has to be real, _is real._ The hand he places on his arm, simultaneously claiming him and comforting him is exactly what Gabriel knows he needs. It’s a mixture of dependence, acceptance and the archangel stating silently that he owns Dean is exactly what Dean needs. It’s then that the human breathes and musters up the courage to face another day. It’s then that Dean realizes that Gabriel cares about his nightmares enough not to bring them up. 

It’s then that Dean remembers how much he loves Gabriel. About how every little thing and every little gesture ties together to create one perfect image. 

One perfect person. 

It’s the fourth time now, the first one the archangel isn’t present for. This time it ends before he can fall, ends midway through screaming Cas’ name for probably the hundredth time. Dean surges back up to consciousness silently, the first thing he notices is that his bed is cold and lifeless, empty, unbearable, something he’d rather crawl out of than sink into. Gabriel is one to leave at unexpected times but Dean was counting on him last night to remain beside him in the morning, not like he was gonna make him promise that or anything though. Dean Winchester doesn’t plead.

Before he even opens his eyes he realizes that there’s no way he could be alone, he feels so deeply in his gut that there’s someone else in the room there’s no way he could deny it. He breathes deeply seconds later, relaxing instantly upon realizing who it is. 

“Hey,” he opens his eyes and catches sight of Castiel looking outside the window nearby. It’s dreary and raining and the Winchester thinks this may just be a perfect day to chill out in bed. Without Gabriel here to share it with him though, he’s rethinking that choice. 

The angel slowly moves his head in his direction but it feels like ages before his eyes meet Dean’s. He manages a weak, barely discernible smile and a nod before staring back out at the rain. Dean hates the feeling of confusion he’s just now starting to get and sits up a little. He absolutely hates seeing the angel like this, like he’s uncomfortable in his presence when that’s the last thing he should be feeling. 

Hell, Cas saved him from Purgatory, and for him to be avoiding him and treating Dean like none of that means anything really tears away at him. “Hey,” he says again and holds his hand out. “Come here.” He doesn’t offer this much, but Dean thinks he better damn well do it now. Cas means a lot to him and the angel knows this, well, he should know this anyway. So Dean’s just gonna suck this chick flick moment up and deal with the situation he’s been unwillingly handed. Dean shoots him a glare and Castiel holds it with no expression the hunter can read on his face. 

Then, finally, Castiel sighs softly and retreats, stands at the very edge of Dean’s bed like it’s the site of the plague or something. Dean stares up at him and wants to know what the hell is going on. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dean.” He hates the way he says it, like the hunter’s done something wrong and he has no freaking clue what it is. It really aggravates him, and he’s still much too exhausted to be feeling this. But Dean feels like he’s been neglecting Cas for so long and he’s done with that treatment. He needs to let him know that he’ll always be here, that Gabriel and Sam aren’t the only two most important people in his world. Cas belongs, has and will always belong on that list too. If only he wouldn’t be such a feather butt and just see it already, Dean might finally learn to relax since his return from Purgatory. 

Jeez, no matter how many times he says that word it still sends him the chills. He shakes it away as quickly as possible. 

“Bull. I know you’re lying, Cas.” He crosses his arms but it seems awkward, not to mention they still ache when in any normal position. He settles them back down on the bed. Being down for a night or two is one thing, but Dean’s not sure just how much more of this he can handle. It’s almost been a week and he’s still feeling too fucking far from himself. Gabriel and Sam can only do so much, and Gabriel not being here every second, even if Dean is being unfair, is really bringing back the anxiety almost up to full force. Castiel is usually a calming presence but right about now he’s only making the Winchester more anxious. “Just tell me. After all we’ve been through together, you should at least be able to talk to me.”

_You should at least be able to see how much this is killing me. Not knowing what to say to you, how to thank you when it needs to be done a million times over. We need to stick together, Cas. We’re brothers remember? I thought you would remember..._

Castiel looks down at the floor in shame, feeling the human’s form tense up, and he knows it’s due to his troubling presence and conflicting emotions pouring off of him in waves. Dean doesn’t need this, but Dean needs someone and that someone must be him for now. He clears his throat softly, moves a step closer to... he doesn’t know what. Be closer to him? Give him some reassurance when he knows it won’t work? Nothing good will come of this unless he gets everything out. And he’s never gotten everything out before. “I fear it is because of that.”

“Because of what?” Dean looks broken. It scares the angel a great deal more than he’d like, than he’d ever anticipated upon venturing in here. As a response to Dean’s constant urging, he decides to sit down hesitantly, awkwardly, on the bed. His hand lies so close to Dean’s that it’s immediately and undeniably uncomfortable. He feels like he’s back there again, filled with emotions for his charge that he should not be feeling. It used to be merely heaven’s orders to stay uninvolved, but no matter what effect Dean’s shining soul had on him, his beautiful smile and fascinating array of emotions were what drew him incredibly closer. Now it’s just Gabriel. Gabriel, who was the first to claim him, to declare his love for him with heated kisses that Castiel could never in an array of centuries live up to. Now it was the archangel who made Dean smile, and laugh, and get so pissed off sometimes and then come back to Gabriel like it was nothing. 

It was a sign, one that they were meant to be together. Castiel moves his hand further away and Dean looks up at him, so confused, so vulnerable. It makes his entire being _ache._

“Cas?” 

He bites the bullet, as he surmises the human would put it. “I care about you, Dean.”

Dean nods, “I know. If it wasn’t for you I’d still be back there.”

“If it weren’t for _Gabriel_ you’d have died.” He’s maintaining eye contact now and it’s all he can do not to look away, look back down at the floor or away at the walls or just anywhere else, just to be anywhere else _but here._ But the truth is he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. He feels he belongs at Dean’s side, where he’s wanted to remain for so long and so much had to happen, so much of it _his fault_ that screwed it all up. That made Dean hurt and fall into Gabriel’s surprisingly open arms. 

It wasn’t a trick, Castiel had let himself sometimes wish that Gabriel was just playing this all out as some major joke, but it wasn’t that. If it was, Sam would know, Sam would never allow it, Sam would drive a hundred stakes through his heart for his brother, even if it wouldn’t work. Gabriel was real, Gabriel was genuine, Gabriel was all Dean’s. And it sickened Castiel sometimes because the sight of the two may have made him slightly jealous, but it also made him smile. Because Dean was happy, _Dean is happy now._

“What... what are you talking about? You’re the one that got me through that, Cas. No one else. What does Gabriel have to do with me and you?”

_Everything. He screws up everything without even realizing it. And he made you better, he kept you together, he was there when I wasn’t._

“It has everything to do with you and I. He loves you. I lov...”

“Don’t,” Dean holds up a hand, warning for him not to go on. His heart literally stops for a second before it frantically pumps within his chest once more, hard and alarmingly fast. “You don’t, Cas. You think you do, but...” Dean shakes his head over and over, forcefully because this is all wrong. Denying something doesn’t solve a thing, Dean knows, but Cas doesn’t even know what love is, he can’t know what he means. _This_ was never supposed to happen. Castiel isn’t supposed to love him, Gabriel’s the one who loves him and in a time not so long before that he thought he honestly didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. But Gabriel... Gabriel had opened up his heart for him and Dean had fallen in love with him just as surely and perfectly and permanently as he had fallen into bed the first time with him. But Gabriel... _Shit, does Gabriel know?_

Cas doesn’t even give Dean enough time to properly breathe before he speaks again. “But I know that you are Gabriel’s. And I would rather leave your side forever than tear you away from his.”

_Why is he saying this why is he saying this why is he saying this?_

He remembers the sensation again: Castiel’s lips brushing against his forehead. Dean didn’t know the intent then but he knows it now. Castiel carrying him, refusing to stop touching him even when they stopped for a break, the angel’s fingers would always be brushing against his naked skin as if to form warmth there and secret longing. And Dean, so caught up in his own little delirious world, not _seeing_ it. Not realizing just how much he means to Cas. _Fuck, this is one hell of a month._

But despite all this, the hunter doesn’t pull away. Not an inch. “Why are you saying these things?”

“Because they should be said. Because you deserve to know.”

Neither of them move or say anything for what seems like an eternity after. They are still as corpses and silent as if their very voices were stolen from their mouths. Dean opens and closes his mouth once or twice but nothing happens. He still can’t read the expression on Castiel’s face, he’s never been that great at reading angels, but he’s guessing it’s something akin to a love that not even the angel fully understands yet. Dean swallows difficultly. 

“I do love you, Cas.” Because he can’t lie, not now. 

“I know,” Cas smiles at him fondly, “but as a brother. Not in the same way that you give your heart freely to Gabriel. You deserve him, he deserves you. It is simple. You are happy, he makes you happy. And therefore, Sam is happy and I am happy.” _We are all happy so why must I feel so empty now?_

“Yeah, Cas. It’s all one big fucking perfect cycle. Just cut the bullshit and say it already...”

“I think it’s time that I take my absence.”

The words give off a sense of absolute finality and Dean panics, reaches for Castiel. The angel takes his hand on a whim and squeezes it, the only touch he can afford to give his charge at this point. “Why?” Dean demands, “Why would you even think that?” The human sits up further, Castiel pushes him back down gently. He’s glad he didn’t wait until Dean was returned to his normal self again. He doesn’t want Dean to fight back. He wants Dean to lie back and accept. Too bad he knows that’s everything Dean Winchester is not. Everything that makes Castiel incredibly fond of him. 

“Because you have everything you need here and more, and you...”

“Don’t say I don’t need you. I will always need _you._ You’re like a _brother_ to me, Cas.”

Castiel smiles fondly one last time before he vanishes. Dean surges forward, screaming his name but he knows that won’t bring him back. More than anything he just wants to wrap himself up in the angel’s embrace and tell him just how much he is needed. Just how much he is loved.

...

...

If anyone was noticing him, Gabriel’s eyes would show nothing but a terrible storm built out of fury, jealousy and a longing he feels ashamed to feel. But no one is looking, Dean and Castiel talk and smile and not one soul pays any attention to Gabriel.

He leaves.

...

...

Dean wakes up with a scream ripped forth from his lips. A hand flies over his mouth before it can escape and he opens his eyes to see Gabriel. He imagines the relief of seeing him will suffocate him in its abruptness and alarming quantity. Gabriel shushes him but Dean begins to think there’s something off, and this time he’s not going to chuck it up to exhaustion. There’s something in Gabriel’s eyes that screams mistrust and... cruelty.

No. Dean clears his vision but the archangel pulls away too quickly. “Bad dream, Deano?”

Dean nods, rubbing his throat, a reminder of the huge clawed hand clasped around it only moments before in what couldn’t have been reality. Gabriel walks around the room, looking all too caught up in his own world. Dean’s never seen him like this before and it scares him. 

“Yeah. Purgat...”

“Purgatory,” the archangel finishes. “Like it always is. What I have to listen to every damn night.”

Now Dean seriously thinks he’s dreaming, “What?” He can’t imagine what would lead Gabriel to say something like that, even if he does claim it to be the truth, Gabriel could never be that merciless towards him. Could he? Suddenly, Dean doesn’t want to think anymore, just wants to go back to sleep again, hoping as he does every single goddamn night that the dreams, _the nightmares_ won’t come. 

“Nothing, Deano. I’m gonna split now.”

“Where are you going?” Dean panics. Gabriel isn’t even looking at him, and it burns somewhere deep down inside him to see how little Gabriel cares. 

“Out,” Gabriel states sharply. “Call Cas if you need someone.”

Dean’s heart breaks all over again. One thing that really pisses him off about Gabriel is that he never lets him explain, never lets him explain what he so desperately needs to.

...

...

Screaming out Gabriel’s name a thousand times isn’t enough. He doesn’t seem to care about anyone but himself. Maybe he was wrong to think Gabriel could change just that little bit, just enough so maybe he would stop being so selfish and stop having his own needs and opinions be at the forefront of everything.

“If you don’t come down here right now, I’m gonna kick your ass to kingdom come. I’ll throw you in hell and make sure you stay there, you selfish bastard.”

The threats are stupid and useless and the hunter knows they mean nothing. But he still tries because it’s all he can do right about now. 

“Goddamn it, Gabriel.” He rasps out, throat aching from the tears he’s been trying to hide, and his throat yelling and screaming enough for Sam to consider evacuating the house and surrounding area. With Cas leaving him it’s enough, and now Gabriel has to reject him. “You won’t even let me explain, just freaking let me explain...”

Gabriel appears far away from Dean, leaning against the door-frame as he crosses his arms and sucks on a lollipop, his nonchalant attitude pissing Dean off more by the second. Because no matter how much Gabriel wants to pretend that he doesn’t care, doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anything... he does. And Dean knows the thing he cares about the most is him. 

“Explain,” Gabriel merely says, like he could care less.

“Just how much of that conversation did you hear?”

Gabriel shrugs, “Enough.”

Dean cuts right to the chase, “I don’t love him like that, Gabriel. And if you think I do, then you’re a dick and an idiot and you don’t know me at all. I love you more than anything and if you can’t see that, then maybe you should leave for good.” 

After saying what he needs to say, he figures there’s no point in saying more and turns away from the sight of him, the one which he loves and also disgusts right about now. He presses his burning face hard into the pillow and huffs, tries to quell the rage that he has no doubt Gabriel is attempting to repress too. He knows Gabriel isn’t human but he expected a whole lot more from him, such as knowing that his actions can hurt Dean a great deal more than he expects. The archangel wanted them to be close from the get go, now all the human’s getting is one jealous, mistrusting archangel that thinks Dean’s the only one to blame here. He closes his eyes and almost wishes Gabriel would leave, so he wouldn’t have to put up with his childish antics any longer. 

Seconds later, the archangel touches his shoulder lightly. It says more than words between the two of them ever could, and when Dean turns his head, when Dean nods, he gives Gabriel the unsaid go ahead to crawl into the bed beside him. They snuggle up to one another like it’s completely normal and like they don’t know that Sam is literally standing at the door, grinning from ear and ear and just twenty minutes ago cursing Gabriel’s name and telling him to get his ass back to his brother or he’ll personally shove a stick up it no matter what Dean’s thoughts on the matter. 

Gabriel clears his throat awkwardly, Dean listens intently. “Sorry about the whole ‘hate listening to you every night’ thing. Don’t think I really knew what I was saying at the time.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Course I didn’t mean it, chuckle-head. You really think I can keep myself away from you? I love you, no matter how annoying your nightmares may be they’re not your fault.”

Dean doesn’t do more than nod and relax as Gabriel begins to move on top of him, squeezing him in possessiveness and eyeing him carefully with a certain hunger he probably thinks the human can’t see. But he can, and he reciprocates it all too well. He wants to remember this moment exactly as it happened, considering the archangel doesn’t apologize to him all that often. It sure is a beautiful moment. 

“You know, you really gotta quit this whole ‘bedridden’ thing, otherwise you’ll just give me good reason to sink into the sheets and never leave this bed. Which means I’ll be entitled to do all sorts of things to you, kiddo.”

Dean drags him down further to him and smiles, “You read my mind.” Because things may not be perfect between them but in a way, they never have been. And Gabriel shoving his own emotions aside screams love to the hunter more than anything else can.

...

...

He wakes up to his body cramping up, and it lasts longer than it usually does. His body’s still getting used to food, and he’s made great progress but the stomach cramps still come at the most unexpected of moments and take a good five minutes before they subside. Dean really isn’t complaining, his recovery has been a hell of a lot easier than he had expected, and it has a lot to do with Gabriel being here with him every small step of the way, both physically and emotionally. He supposes what he really wants is peace of mind that he’ll never have to be alone, and who better to collect that prize from but an archangel himself?

Dean honestly can’t express how much he misses cheeseburgers and pie, pretty much the absolute worst things he could eat at this point, but Gabriel lying next to him is more delicious than those two could ever be, and he’s not denying it. 

He winces as a sharp pain shoots up, stiffens on the bed. He bites down on his lip so as not to wake Gabriel, even though he’d kill to have him awake and holding him right now. It’s probably been fifteen minutes; he glances over at the clock and sees it’s three in the morning. Dean works on not panicking, it’s so early and he’s still exhausted and he wills himself to take slow, deep breaths, knowing the only thing he can do is wait out the pain. 

Sometimes he can’t even tell if his body is rejecting the food he ate about an hour before, or screaming at him to eat more. He doesn’t want to think about it actually, though lying in bed forced to endure the pain, it’s all he can think about. He’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even notice Gabriel stir beside him and look at him. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Cramp, it’ll pass.” He blows it off like its nothing, even though all he wants to do is scream at Gabriel ‘what the fuck do you think it is!?’ and pull him closer towards him, demanding for Gabriel to snuggle up next to him and provide him with some of his warmth and comfort. 

“Guess I shouldn’t have fed you that pasta. Still,” Gabriel licks his lips as he remembers the taste, “that sauce tasted so fantastic when it was on you.”

“Yeah,” Dean groans, “you only had a taste. I had to eat the damn thing.”

He turns over, the pain lessening only a bit as he gets off his back and turns onto his side. The bed is cold and the pillows he clutches even colder, he closes his eyes at the chill and the goosebumps running fiercely along his skin, trying not to get pissed that Gabriel stole the sheets... again. 

Gabriel follows him and curls his smaller body around his own, pulling the sheets over them both, as if he always knows what Dean wants, and he pretty much always does. Dean smiles a little, determined not to let Gabriel see it, and scoots further back into him, seeking the security he provides on a night like this, when the images of agony, torment and a guilty Cas flutter around dizzyingly in his head and make him want to throw up. 

“Don’t think I’ll ever eat again,” he announces to the archangel even though the cramps seem to be easing off now. He can feel Gabriel’s smile against the back of his neck and allows him to nuzzle the area affectionately. When Gabriel gets extra possessive of his mate, like he is now, a strange thing happens: Gabriel actually purrs, his grace most likely causing it, and it is the most relaxed the archangel can ever get. The minute purrs cause Dean to radiate happiness, and leaving his embrace in these moments would be nothing less than a certain torture. 

“You think the bed’s cold now, imagine what it was like for me when I had no one to share it with.” Dean swallows, tries to imagine it but can’t, and he knows saying sorry won’t change a damn thing, or make it better for that matter. 

“I’m glad I’m back too, Gabe.” And he lets Gabriel’s purrs soothe him back into a pain free sleep.

...

...

Sam Winchester has no idea what exactly happened between Dean and Castiel, and he knows better than to get pissed at his brother without being sure that he’s the one to blame. It’s just... Dean can neglect the angel at times and it unnerves the youngest Winchester to no end. He’s quick to defend Cas because no one else is, and sometimes he wonders exactly what this means.

He knows something happened between Dean and Castiel in Purgatory too. How could you not know it? The way the two have been looking at each other, even stranger than they usually do, screams that something isn’t right, that the truth is even more confusing than he assumes it to be. Sure, he always thought Dean was attracted to Cas, what with all the eye sex happening dozens of times in a day, but when his brother is around Gabriel, he notices a certain peace and happiness and permanence that leaves Sam with no doubt in his mind that for his brother, it will always be Gabriel. Gabriel will always be the one to push his buttons, to drive him crazy, and he doesn’t dare take Dean out of bed with him right now because he fears that something is seriously wrong with Castiel, feels that he has to try and fix it, because Dean is so comfortable and happy with Gabriel, and Sam doesn’t have the right to rip him away from that. 

Sam sighs loudly, his hands running through his hair in stress. “Cas? Cas, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want to try to help. Just let me help, okay?”

He sighs, already expecting the silence but he’s still shocked by it, not to mention pissed at it. “Cas...” 

And then the flutter of feathers resonates throughout the room and Sam smiles as he turns to see none other than the angel there. Sam figures this is as good a place as any to talk. 

“You called?”

“Yeah,” Sam responds, unsure of where to start. “Did Dean do something, did he piss you off?”

“Dean did nothing wrong,” Castiel doesn’t even hesitate a second before responding, and Sam honestly doesn’t think he’s lying, but he does know that Castiel leaving as quickly and certainly as he did has something to do with Dean. 

“Okay,” he decides to play around, wanting as much time with Castiel as he can possibly get, “so it wasn’t Dean’s fault. But he said something, right? Said something that maybe drove you away, without meaning to have that effect?” Castiel drops his head down to look at the floor intensely and Sam knows he just hit the problem right on the nose. He smiles, admiring his own progress, but drops the smile when he sees the slightly haunted look on Castiel’s face. 

“Dean does not reciprocate certain emotions.”

Sam’s mouth won’t work for a minute after that, he doesn’t really know how best to respond to that. Sometimes, the angel is just too awkward for a decent response, but he vowed to help him, and he’s not turning back on that promise now. Not when Sam just got him back, back where he belongs. “Well, you know Dean,” he says more than just a little awkwardly, “always ready to hide his feelings. That’s part of what you like so much about him, Cas.” The angel nods at that, looking back up to focus on Sam. The latter takes it as his cue to continue, “Cas? You didn’t, uh... you didn’t tell Dean that you have feelings towards him or anything like that, right?”

When Castiel doesn’t answer, it feels like a punch to the gut. Now he _really_ doesn’t know how to respond, not for the life of him. He expected it to happen someday, Cas telling Dean just how he really felt, but something really monumental must have happened in Purgatory for him to have brought it up so quickly. He feels so bad for Cas, so terrible because the angel knows how much Dean loves Gabriel and vice versa, and it must be so painful for Cas to be drawn towards admitting his feelings, with Gabe and Dean taking all available time to spend with each other. He wants to tell Cas how sorry he is, how bad he feels, but somehow he thinks he’ll only make it worse. 

“Cas, I’m...”

“Do not bother, Sam. You should not be involved in this.”

“Look, Cas,” he tries to make him understand, “it’s not that Dean doesn’t love you, cause he does, you have to know that he does. You’re family to him, a brother, hell, even something more than that. And you’re all that to me too, maybe even more. But Dean, he...”

“He loves Gabriel,” Castiel sadly admits, hanging his head again and all Sam wants to do is step forward and force it back up again, _make him_ look him straight in the eye and see the younger Winchester’s pleading. 

“Yes, and Gabriel loves him. And they belong with each other, because they are everything the other needs. But you, you can still maintain that close bond with Dean without being in a relationship with him, Cas.” Castiel looks up and Sam can hear the unspoken, ‘I can?’ “Yes,” he says, like it’s the only word that matters between the both of them now. _Yes, I think I’m falling in love with you. I think that I’ve always been in love with you. Yes, I want you to stay. Please stay?_ “Yes, you can stay.”

“I think it would be awkward...”

“Let me ask you something,” Sam cuts in. “Did it seem like Dean genuinely wanted you to leave?”

The angel shakes his head, “He wanted me to stay.”

“Then stay!” 

Though for some reason, all those two words manage to do are to push him away even further. “I’m sorry, Sam, but I think it would be better for everyone if I just took my leave.”

“Cas!” He decides to go for it, on a whim that is certain to end wrong, “Don’t you care about what I want?” Castiel turns back at that, and Sam suddenly gets the hope that the answer is yes, that he does care about someone other than Dean. “So if I were to ask you to stay, would you do that for me?”

The angel steps forward, “Sam...”

“No, I don’t want you to feel like I’m ordering you around. I want you to want it. If you wanted to stay to be... with me, I want you to know that I would want you to be.” Castiel’s eyes widen and Sam takes that one step forward to pull Castiel into a kiss, knowing immediately that he never wants to pull away. He breaks apart regardless when his body needs oxygen, and looks at the angel he wants to wake up next to in the mornings, that he wants to kiss like that many times a day for the rest of his life. “Castiel?”

“Sam, are we...”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I think we are.” Suddenly, Castiel doesn’t look so shocked or disappointed anymore. In fact, he kind of looks pleased.

...

...

About a week later, Dean is back to normal as much as he can get back to normal. He spends most of his time with Gabriel, lying around in bed doing nothing but having copious amounts of sex and letting Gabriel snuggle up next to him, kinda making it hard to breathe sometimes, as often as he wants to, because Gabriel suffered when he was gone too, and he wants to make it up to him.

In fact, they don’t even leave bed to eat. Gabriel just snaps his fingers whenever he’s hungry and tons of food appears in front of them; Dean takes and eats what he wants and leaves Gabriel to do what he will with the rest. At least his super possessive archangel lets him leave when he wants to get a decent shower, though he insists on joining him and Dean really doesn’t seem to mind after all. He feels like he’s been away from Gabriel for years, and now being inseparable from him is pretty freaking fantastic. 

Gabriel gets back to the bedroom, slips on a clean shirt instead of just zapping it on like he usually does, and crawls back into bed with Dean, stretching out beside him instead of attaching himself to the hunter. Dean scoots closer anyways. 

“Sam and Cassie are downstairs watching a movie. Leaves us time to do something fun.” Gabriel gives him one of those grins that Dean loves, but flips on the TV anyway, not climbing on top of him like Dean thought he would. 

Oh, and did Dean mention that he and Cas have made up, and that it wasn’t entirely awkward? Of course, Gabriel went all ‘don’t touch my boyfriend or breathe on him or anything like that because he’s _mine’,_ leading the hunter to tell him to back the fuck off, but he and the angel are genuinely okay now, back with the intense staring and profound bond, so Dean can relax now with a Gabriel that’s actually been super giving to him lately, probably due to guilt issues. 

“What’s been going on with them lately? Is it just me, or are they like... bonding?”

Gabriel shrugs, “My best bet is that they’re dating.”

“Okay, now that is just disgusting.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Deano. I actually think it’s kinda cute. Shy little Cassie and his awkwardly tall moose, doing the dirty. K. I. S. S. I. N. G.”

“Ugh,” Dean almost has the nerve to shove Gabriel off the bed but instead shuts off the TV and settles himself on top of Gabriel. “You gonna keep talking about my brother and best friend, or are you gonna cater to your needy as fuck boyfriend?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel thinks for an unbelievably long second, only to piss Dean off, “think I’ll go get the chocolate and make my taste buds explode licking it off you.”

Dean’s entire body shivers in anticipation and he grins, “Then what are you waiting for, sweet lips?”

...

...

Epilogue to come :) 


End file.
